


I Still Love You Anyway

by grethan-allmance (Sapphire09)



Series: Grethan AU Collection [4]
Category: The Dolan Twins, Youtube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Claustrophobia, Incest, M/M, Psychological Horror, Twincest, implied - Freeform, serial killer au, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire09/pseuds/grethan-allmance
Summary: Grayson stared the puddle of blood in front of him. His eyes were drawn to the scarlet liquid as it slowly expands, the pouring blood enlarging and expanding said puddle, slowly but surely. The coppery tang of it invaded his nose, making him dizzy with the smell.Someone died, his mind said. Someone is dead. There is a dead person.And the killer is someone he knew all too well.
Relationships: Ethan Dolan/Grayson Dolan, Grayson Dolan/Other(s)
Series: Grethan AU Collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1352893
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	I Still Love You Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> [Warning: obviously the people in this story are really mentally unhealthy, and the rating is more because of that. That also means the relationship gonna be unhealthy. Nothing rapey, I don't think, but the relationship is really unhealthy. Feel free to skip this one entirely if there's even a slight possibility for this to be triggering.
> 
> If you still insist on continuing, enjoy the wackiness, I guess? Proceed with caution (seriously, mash that back button/choose my other non-triggering fics). Another warning, this is obviously very out of character. For reals.]

Grayson stared the puddle of blood in front of him. His eyes were drawn to the scarlet liquid as it slowly expands, the pouring blood enlarging and expanding said puddle, slowly but surely. The coppery tang of it invaded his nose, making him dizzy with the smell.

_Someone died_ , his mind said. _Someone is dead. There is a dead person._

Grayson needed to look up, to see who it was. Who killed? Who was killed? One is a dead body, unmoving as the blood pooled around it. Another, he could see a pair of bare feet, stray drops of red staining the otherwise fair skin.

Feet that looks so familiar, the shape and size of it, from the way they step to the shape of their toenails. There was something extremely nostalgic in how the pinky toenail looked extremely short and small, as if it's been picked off absently by his own fingernails in his quiet time.

There was also something extremely familiar in the way those feet sidestepped the puddle of blood, a quiet sound breathed out, barely audible to human ears. But, Grayson heard it anyway, his ears were always attuned to that voice. He could identify that voice from a sea of voices. He _knew_ that voice.

"Ew, blood."

There was a fondness in his chest, fondness he didn't want to feel, as he heard the familiar complaint.

 _'I know the killer,'_ Grayson's mind whispered. _'I_ know _you.'_

There was a dead body, the one that was killed, lying not far from where Grayson was.

There was a pair of moving feet, the one that killed, stepping closer and closer to where Grayson was.

"Hey, Gray," the killer said. This close, Grayson could smell the faint scent of something sweet (vanilla and almond and _blood_ ), _familia_ r, among the overwhelming stink of blood and gasoline.

Grayson needed to look up. He needed to see—

— _is that you?_

He needed to look up.

( _His head was so heavy, his eyes blurring at the edges, he couldn't feel his hands and his feet anymore, the killer's lips near his ears_ —)

"Miss me?"

* * *

Grayson knew something was off about his new boyfriend. He was secretive and rarely talked about himself. On the rare times he did, everything he said sounded like a lie to Grayson's ears. He also had the kind of dark humor that would often creep people out. However, he was hot and insightful and charismatic, so Grayson thought maybe he was just being paranoid and his trust issues was messing with him.

Besides, he thought the dark humor was _hilarious_.

Also, there was something that draws him to Jason. Maybe it was his tendency for sarcasm, his attention for detail, or the way he remembers every little thing Grayson had ever told him. He _likes_ Jason. He thinks he may even love him, _really_ love him, someday. The way he did once, a long time before. _Still,_ he'd even admit in his own thoughts. Like he loves _him._

He also liked that Jason didn't ask too much about his past, why he was moving places a lot, and why he doesn't even have a social media. He accepted Grayson just didn't want to talk about it and agreed to move on.

( _"I get it. The past is the past, right? I'm your present, now.")_

He really should've realized before the guy was a freakin' _psycho_.

He and Jason were fighting. In itself was fine, Grayson knew how to manage fights. In honesty, it was relatively tame compared to the fights Grayson used to have with _him_. So, he thought it was just normal, they'll be fine by the time dinner rolls around. 

Turns out, by dinner, Grayson would find himself lying on the floor in a dark, damp place with no windows, hands tied behind his back and feet tied together with ropes that dug into his skin every time he tried to move.

Grayson didn't want to admit he was scared, but he was, a little bit. Though the fear was more because he couldn't move, the place was dark, he didn't see a door or a way out anywhere, and it triggered his severe claustrophobia, rather than because Jason had a gasoline container beside him and a lighter. The possibility of being burned to death scared him a lot less than the claustrophobic environment he was in, especially since he was tied and all. 

Or maybe it adds, Grayson wasn't sure. He just knew he'd like to get out of that place _soon_.

"You shouldn't have been so difficult," Jason said. "I just wanted the best for you. Why couldn't you see that?"

Psycho. A _goddamn_ ** _psycho_**.

Really. He should've known. He _really_ should've.

He would've facepalmed if he could.

"Can't you just break up with me than going straight to murder?" Grayson had to ask. "This is extra as shit, Jason."

Grayson didn't expect the feet that kicked his torso. He could feel his ribs either cracked or bruised, but he didn't think it was broken. Still, he coughed and groaned as that kick really took all the breath out of him. It _throbbed_.

Jason never got physical like this with him, or even violent in general. Even in sex, Jason was _sweet_. He was just as muscular and buff as Grayson, versatile and willing for anything, but he never left bruises on Grayson. Even when they held hands, or embraced, Jason never held as tight as he could, always suppressing himself. Grayson thought maybe he just wasn't used to holding a guy just as strong as him, and just thought it was cute.

Jason was different from _him._

 _He_ always held Grayson too tight, like _he_ was afraid if _he_ let go, Grayson would disappear. _He_ would squeeze Grayson's hand a bit too hard, _he_ would leave bruises and bite marks on Grayson's skin in moments of passion. That was nice too. But, Jason is a different person from _him,_ so Grayson knew not to compare.

Grayson was surprised, but he wondered if Jason was playing a part in all those times they were together. It wouldn't surprise him.

"I wish I don't have to do this," Jason talked again. "You're so _stubborn_. I liked that when I saw you. You _understood_ me, most of all. You accepted _me._ I was myself the _most_ when I'm with you. I _love_ you."

 _Ah, this kind of shit again_ , Grayson thought long-sufferingly. 

"Are you going to kill me, Jay?"

_"Gonna kill me too, E?"_

_Hurt brown eyes. Trembling hands. Red-bitten lips. Blood dripping. Red splatters on the ground._

"I don't want to," Jason answered morosely. "But, you gave no choice, Gray. I don't—You were going to _leave me!"_

" _Don't leave me," he cried, voice cracking and trembling, even as his hands were dripping in_ ** _red_** _and Grayson can see the blood on his cheek. "I can't live without you, Gray. Please_ \--"

Grayson wondered why this kind of shit always happens to him.

"It's your fault," Jason accused. "We could've been happy if you would just _listen to m_ e."

With that, whatever sentiment, whatever budding love Grayson had for Jason, withered and died. Now, Grayson wanted nothing more to do with this delusional man. He regretted everything from even meeting this man and wished he had moved on to the next city like he first planned instead of getting distracted by him.

Grayson couldn't count anymore, how many times his relationships ended in similar fashion. Girl or guy, doesn't matter who, they always ended up to be some kind of psycho and ended up doing something crazy when he wanted a little bit of space, or when he expressed his wish to continue his travel.

(Well, one didn't. But, _he's_ different. He just tracked Grayson down, whether he wants to or not.)

He wondered what was it about him that attracted such psychos. Or why he was attracted to people that turns out to be psychos.

(Like everything else, it was probably _his_ fault.)

Shit. Grayson was feeling light-headed already. He _hates_ closed space, _fuck_.

"You're crazy," Grayson muttered. He knew he probably shouldn't have said it, they always got mad when he pointed out they're crazy. But, he also couldn't help it. He wanted _ou_ t, he hates the fucking dark, locked room he's in, and he's so fucking tired of facing the same thing over and over again.

Jason kicked him again. Grayson lost his breath, feeling the pain in his chest and wondered if Jason did crack a rib. He was having trouble with breathing.

Shit. _Shit._

"I'm not," Jason insisted, looking hurt and angry. "I'm _not._ I just love you so much, Gray! But, you're going to leave _me!_ I did my best, I tried my hardest! I pleased you, didn't I? I did everything to earn your love! But, why, even though I love you so much, I didn't feel like you ever loved _me_?"

Grayson tried to glance up through half-lidded eyes. He tried to focus on just breathing and awake, but it was getting hard to keep his eyes open.

Then, there was a sound, coming from the dark. There was a swinging sound of metal swung in the air, before there was Jason's choked off scream and the cracking sound of metal hitting his skull, merciless and deadly.

Grayson hated that it wasn't the first time he heard such sound.

The smell of blood hit Grayson's nostrils quickly, though he needed more time to register the red splatter as blood. In the dark, they look almost like black paint.

One second ago, Jason was annoying and alive. Now, he's silent and dead.

As always, he felt sick by the thought, horrified by how quick it is.

"Ew, blood," the killer muttered, and Grayson wanted to cry. He didn't, when Jason threatened to burn him alive. All he felt was disappointment, _regret_. But now...

_(The killer... I know you.)_

Now, desolation comes.

_(I miss you.)_

* * *

Grayson opened his eyes to familiar brown eyes staring at him. He was greeted by a familiar face that looked exactly like his own.

"Hi, Gray," his mirror greeted brightly as if he didn't still have traces of blood on his face, on his hair. "Good morning."

' _Is it morning?'_ He wondered. He won't put it past _him_ to deceive Grayson, mess up his sense of time by saying things like that. _He_ had done it before.

 _He_ had done it many times before.

( _Oblivious, naive, stupid Grayson. Always ready to believe anything his twin said, while knowing nothing at all._ )

Grayson pursed his lips. He would sit up, but his limbs felt heavy. He wasn't bound, though he wondered if he was drugged. He wasn't sure if the tiredness he was feeling was because he was emotionally exhausted or because _he_ drugged him. 

He didn't feel drugged, but Grayson learned not to believe his senses when it comes to Ethan.

Unable to move his body, Grayson opted to turn his head away so he didn't have to see _him_.

"Still not talking to me, huh?" _he_ said, sadly. "I guess that's fair..."

 _His_ fingers touched Grayson's cheek, a soft and familiar caress that Grayson didn't know how much he missed it, until he feels it again. He wanted to lean into that touch, but he held his ground, unmoved.

He hated how his body still remembered the memory of _his_ touches.

"It does feel good to be able to touch you again," he said before he replaced that finger with his lips, a gentle press against his skin that never felt like anything else but _love_.

Ah, _shit_.

"How did you find me?" Grayson asked softly, barely a whisper. He didn't need to turn his head to know _he_ was smiling. Grayson could feel it radiating on his back, just from him finally talking to _him_.

He could feel _him_ shifting closer, _his_ face just inches away from Grayson's ear.

"What makes you think I ever lost you?"

It was like a wash of cold water, despite the warm, curious way _he_ asked that question.

"We're _alway_ s connected, Grayson. It doesn't matter how far you go. I'll find you, 5 minutes, tops. It's been like that since we were kids, and it'll always be."

There was pride in _his_ voice, affectionate and warm, while his words simultaneously sounded like a threat as well as assurance.

_"I always find you, Gray," he whispered, every bit of a big brother he swore himself to be, "I won't let you get lost in the dark alone."_

_He_ then reached for Grayson's hand, entwining _his_ fingers with Grayson's. A familiar gesture that never failed to calm Grayson down.

Even now, even after knowing, _seeing,_ how that same hand was covered in blood.

Grayson couldn't help it. The touch automatically made him turn around, facing that face, so similar to his own. When their eyes finally met, _he_ smiled brightly, a familiar smile Grayson always ( _still_ ) loves.

_'I missed you.'_

_'I_ _don't want to miss you.'_

_'How can I still miss you, after everything you've done?'_

"Ethan..." Grayson muttered out a name he didn't dare to speak of, never speak of, even in the years he tried to run away from this man. The name always feels like _home_ in his tongue, but the man was someone he should get away from, as far away as possible. 

_(Home_ is something he no longer has, not anymore.)

Ethan smiled even brighter if that was possible.

"This is the best day ever," Ethan said, eyes bright with such affection and love for Grayson, while Grayson can still see the red spot he missed on his face, under his hairline and near his ear and knew they are _blood_ , "I get to touch you and hear you call my name again _."_

Grayson needed to run.

He needs to.

( _He doesn't want to._ )

His chest feels tight and he couldn't _breath_ e. His sight gets blurry, then he could feel a finger rubbing gently at his eyes, wiping away the lone tear that fell.

 _'He's not_ _ **home**_ _,'_ Grayson insisted in his mind. But, in the end, Grayson longed for it and Ethan... Is _home_.

"C'mon, Gray. Don't cry," Ethan cooed, and Grayson could almost believe this was just like when they were 10, when Ethan found Grayson trapped in the basement, alone and crying and hyperventilating. Scared out of his mind and so, so _alone._

But, they're not 10 anymore.

And back then, Ethan didn't have the smell of blood stubbornly clinging to his skin. Just vanilla and almonds, and the sweet smell of the sugary stuff Ethan always liked to eat.

"Are you going to kill me?" Grayson asked, a repeated question he once asked before he ran away. There was no fear in his heart, but in its place was a deep longing, and that scared him more. How his rational mind knew Ethan can kill him, while his heart is still in its delusion of love.

 _'This isn't lov_ e,' he had to remind himself. ' _This is obsession and possession_. _Don't get confused._ '

Grayson is just too fucked up to really tell the difference sometimes, that's all.

Ethan frowned, his expression sad. "How can you ask that again, Gray? You're really breaking my heart here, you know."

Ethan didn't let Grayson's hand go. Instead, he grasped tighter, lifting it to kiss the back of Grayson's hand.

"I can't live without you," he said to Grayson's hand, the same answer as back then. "How can I ever kill you?"

The lie of it just broke Grayson's heart further, especially when Grayson wanted to believe that lie.

"I love you, Gray," Ethan said, such _affection_ in his tone, "I can't kill you."

Ah, how could Grayson still love this man and the pretty lies he spun? For years, he tried to run. He thought he was moving on from Ethan. But, now he found that he never moved forward at all.

"Liar," Grayson whispered. He still remembered the cold look on Ethan's face, the dead eyes looking back at him. He remembered the way his throat hurts as his screams went unheeded. He still remembered the dead bodies around him, the unwanted tributes Grayson never wished to know. Even though the eyes looking at Grayson now were filled with nothing but love and warmth, he also knew how quickly they could turn cold.

Grayson may have dated a lot of psychos since Ethan, but none of them was ever as cruel, or as _loving_ , as Ethan was.

Ethan sighed, leaning his head and rubbed his cheek over Grayson's hand. His grip on it was like a vice. Ethan has no intention of letting Grayson go.

"Really, Gray? Seriously, what will it take for you to believe me?"

Nothing, Grayson thinks. His brain doubts while his heart _loves_. And Grayson has learned to not trust his heart when it comes to Ethan, numbed by love as it was. Nothing Ethan can do will return his ignorance. As long as Grayson _remembers,_ he can't trust anything Ethan says, no matter how true it felt.

Ethan sighed again when Grayson wouldn't answer.

"Back to the silent treatment?" he pouted. "And here I thought we were past that already."

"Am I your prisoner?" Grayson asked. Ethan's face fell even further at the question and Grayson hated the way that expression still twisted something in his chest.

"I'm not Jason, you know," Ethan grumbled, pouting almost childishly. "Or Nadia. Or Will. Or Rick."

Grayson did have an inkling, from when Ethan said that he'll always find Grayson. In the back of his mind, he thought it might mean Ethan had been watching him, maybe even had known what his past lovers did. But now, this was confirmation. Ethan had seen Grayson, had watched him, and let him be. Until _Jason._

_Why?_

"Oh, wait," Ethan continued as if he was thinking of something, "Maybe it wasn't Rick, but Nick? I get those two switched up a lot."

Ethan then focused back on Grayson's face. He then smiled, as if he was seeing something in Grayson's expression that he liked.

"Does that surprise you?" Ethan asked. "I knew every deed they've done, everything. Even some more that you probably didn't know."

No, Grayson wasn't surprised. 

"...What did you do?"

The warmth in Ethan's expression faded to something sharp and cold. The smile he still had now looked biting and mocking. 

"They touched you, Gray. What do you think?"

_Right. What the fuck did I expect?_

Then, Ethan sighed and straightened up. He shook his head, the coldness fading again and the warmth returned, along with the sadness. He laced his hand together with Grayson's as he met Grayson's eyes again.

"Don't look like that," Ethan said. "It's not like any of them were good people. In a way, aren't I doing better already? It's not my fault all the people you dated were scumbags.

"Will you just stop running now?" he asked. Grayson's heart thought he might be pleading, yet Grayson's brain insisted it was just another part of Ethan's manipulation. 

He hated how they were always at war now, when Ethan is involved. They didn't use to be.

(Once upon a time, his brain believed what his heart felt. Once upon a time, leaving Ethan would be a nightmare come to life.)

(Once upon a time, there was nowhere Grayson was happiest, than being by Ethan's side)

"What will you do if I keep running anyway?" Grayson asked, though he thought he already knew the question when Ethan sighed, something like annoyance creeping up in his tone.

"I'll find you anyway," he answered with utmost certainty that Grayson remembers loving. _And he would,_ he thought, feeling something like numb defeat resting inside his ribcage. He _did_.

"But, Grayson," Ethan started, the hint of annoyance morphed into something whinier, something almost childish, and he sounded like the person he loved all his life.

"I hate being away from you. It's been _years,_ Gray. I _miss_ you."

And Grayson hates how he missed _him_ back. He didn't want to.

(How can he not miss him? The one who was his light in the dark, his life companion just for being born, the one constant in his changed world.)

(And Grayson was getting tired of running away.)

**END....?**

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: Well, one thing I figured out now, is that I'm horrible at writing murder. And horror. Or is this more of a thriller? I'm either gonna write something else like this for training or never touch this genre again. I planned this to be horror, but I think most of you only ended up confused and probably unsatisfied, especially with all the uncertainties in this story. It is kind of the point/theme for this au though.
> 
> There was a whole backstory here I didn't include. Obviously. I did put in hints though. But I think they're really missable.


End file.
